Another Place, Another Time
by hohohocandygrams
Summary: What would have happened if Dean and Sam hadn't become hunters? Can they led normal lives, or are they destined to a life of angels and demons?
1. Chapter 1

Castiel sat silently, overlooking the flat landscape of central Indiana, _on a bus_. An angel of the Lord, in all his glory, _on a bus_. It was a bit humbling, sitting there on said bus, but his superiors told him it was necessary. That was all they told him, that it was necessary. Castiel didn't ask; he didn't need to know.

But there he was, reason or not, waiting patiently for the human transportation vehicle to take him to where he needed to go. Did the humans not see how slow the contraption was going? They were peculiar like that; they would kill each other over a difference of opinion, but they didn't seem to mind the speed at which their busses were going.

The bus rolled to a stop once more (for the fifth time, Castiel had counted), let a passenger on, and departed once more. A passenger that was now, apparently, coming to sit by the angel. The stranger smiled and greeted Castiel with a typical human salutation, of which he returned in his normal monotone. The man swung his bag under the bus seat and slid in next to the angel.

"Dean Winchester." He informed Castiel. Winchester…

It took almost a second to register the importance of that name (Castiel was getting rusty from his time away from the mission.)

"Is Mary Winchester related to you?" He questioned, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the side.

Dean furrowed his brow from the suddenness of the question, "Yeah, she was my mom. Did you know her?"

Castiel probably knew more about Dean's mother than Dean himself did. She was famous among angels for killing Azazel: a demon that had been a pain in their sides for millennia. Of course she died in the process, going up in flames alongside the demon. She had earned herself a spot in heaven though, something not many hunters are able to do.

"Not personally." He replied, returning his gaze to the miles of cornrows that stretched out for miles. Dean smiled again, "You're not from around here, are you?" Dean asked, probably picking up on the lack of Castiel's social grace, "Let me guess, Russian?" Castiel supposed his vessel did look of Soviet decent, but all humans looked the same to him.

"Something like that."

"What was your name? You never said."

The angel thought for a moment, thinking of a name that would be easy to forget, because he was expressly forbidden from telling any human about who he was unless it was absolutely needed.

"John Ficher"

"Doesn't sound very Russian to me." Dean responded, though his voice held traces of amusement and not of suspicion. 'John' had nothing to say in response, so he let the conversation turn to silence.

After a while, the bus slowed to a final stop, and everyone exited. Once outside, Dean shifted the strap of his bag that was currently placed on his shoulder.

"Well, it was nice meeting you John."

And with that, he left.

The great thing about America was that there was a never ending supply of place to perform a murder, which was convenient seeing as though that was what Castiel was informed he was about to do. He was also told why he needed to take a bus to a random rundown shack in Ohio. It was because he was trying to discreet; he was sent here to kill an angel.

So Castiel did what he was told, though which of his brothers or sisters he was being ordered to murder remained a mystery. A 'surprise' as Uriel has put it. As he was walking into the decrepit building, he found that it was exactly that, a 'surprise'.

"Anna?" He called out, hoping very much that it was not her. The angel whipped around to face him, confirming that it was, indeed, Anna. Of course it was. Castiel knew better than to hope.

"Castiel," she regarded him, her eyes were wild as though she was already trying to send her point of view directly into his mind, "I know what you've come here to do, and if you would just listen-"

"I don't listen to disobedient angels," he interrupted, revealing a silver blade readying to plunge it into his sister, "and if you know why I am here, then you know I must carry it out."

"Please Castiel, you know something's wrong. You can feel it, can't you? They're planning something, something _huge_."

It was true, the angels were acting strangely. They were asking him to do more things with less explanation, asking him to draw on his blind faith. Castiel would be lying if he said he didn't doubt his superiors sometimes.

"Don't do this," Anna urged on, closing the short distance between them quickly, "You don't have to. If you come with me I can show you."

"I cannot-" He began.

"You can Castiel. You are my brother, and I am your sister," Her words sounded sincere, causing him to knit his brow in concentration. Uriel must have notice Castiel's hesitance; he stepped out from the shadows he was previously hiding in and nodded towards Anna, giving him the signal that now was the time to strike.

Castiel knew what side he belonged on.

Raising the silver blade, he muttered the words, "I'm sorry," before planting the blade in his sister's chest. A blinding light shone from her eyes as she collapsed to the ground at Castiel's feet, the black outline of her wings permanently painted on the walls. Uriel gave him another nod of approval before disappearing, leaving Castiel alone.

Heaven had become, ironically, more hectic in the following week. He wasn't asked to do much else, other than normal angelic duties, however something was most definitely off. It was obvious that they were planning something; now it was just a question of what.

Castiel started to wish he had spent more time talking to Anna.

"You made what happen?" Castiel asked Zachariah incredulously.

"Armageddon. The end of days. Lucifer walks and we need to prepare."

More than anything he wanted to ask _why_, but he knew they would only tell him enough to get the job done.

"What do you need?" Castiel asked dutifully. Zachariah smiled, "The Winchester boys. There are two of them. You met Dean; the other one is called Sam. They are the vessels."

Castiel knew whose vessels they were; Michal and Lucifer were always destined to fight when the time came.

"I need you," Zachariah continued, "to bring them to me. Specifically Dean, find him and convince him to say yes to Michal."

"How do I do that?"

"Make him trust you. Humans are easy, just save his life once or twice and he's yours."

That should have been it. Castiel should have been off like the good servant of heaven he was. But something felt wrong (he seemed to be having that feeling increasingly often) about this.

"Are you sure this is the best way?"

Zachariah looked taken aback, "Castiel, are_ you_, of all angels, questioning me?"

He thought for a moment.

"No, of course not. I will do what you ask."

The last thing he was before he left for earth was Zachariah's suspicious face.


	2. Chapter 2

"You may now kiss the bride."

Dean, as the best man, stood in the front of a church, despite his atheism, watching his brother marry his girlfriend of five years, Jessica. He was the only present member of Sam's family; their dad was (predictably) absent. Because that's just what John Winchester was. Absent. He had clearly took a running dive off of the deep end after their mother's death. Every so often Dean would catch his father muttering to himself about 'demons' or whatever, but every time he asked about it John would look at him all pathetically. Dean learned not to ask about it.

In a way, Dean had to thank his dad. Without his awful parenting he never would have been so close to his brother. Sam was practically his son, which was why he had spent all of last night in Sam's hotel room calming him down. That's also why he was currently watching what had to be the sappiest wedding that has ever happened and _oh my god Sammy are you really crying I'm going to barf rainbows._

The reception was about as memorable as the wedding itself. They danced, he drank, and then Sam was off on his honeymoon. Dean promised to stay behind and see everyone out, though Jessica's sister was quite obviously jealous, quite obviously drunk, and quite obviously throwing herself at Dean. However, Dean went back to his hotel room alone, deciding that sleeping with his sister-in-law on his brother's wedding day was probably not going to go over well.

Once in his hotel room, Dean collapsed onto the bed, exhausted from the week's events. Ever since he stepped off the bus from Indianapolis, he'd been going nonstop. But before he could so much as close his eyes, an impatient knock came from the door. Dean groaned and went to answer it,

"Damnit Ashley, I told you I- oh."

Standing before Dean was John Winchester, in the flesh, holding a gun.

"Dean."

"Are you aware that you just missed your own son's wedding?"

"Yes"

"Ass."

"I know."

Dean was more than a bit frustrated, "What the hell are you doing talking to me then? And why are you carrying a gun?"

John looked around hesitantly, "We need to talk, but it's not safe here."

Dean rolled his eyes and followed his father, who was glancing around like someone was about to jump them. They got to his Impala, of which he was unhealthily attached to, and drove to the nearest church (coincidently the same one he had been in less than an hour before.) Walking into the apparent 'safe place', which he doubted because damn was this place creepy at night, Dean turned to face his father,

"Okay were here. Now quit with the cryptic crap and tell me what you need to say."

John seemed nervous as he looked around once more for something.

"I need to tell you the story of how your mother died."

Dean listened quietly to his father's tale his face giving no inclination of intrigue. John seemed to have stopped talking, yet Dean still held his stare, locking onto the other man's eyes. A few seconds of silence passed, followed by a few more. John cleared his throat and took a step closer to his son,

"Dean?"

"Are you drunk?" Dean asked evenly, narrowing his eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked you if you were drunk. Because that's the only thing I can think up to justify this. We don't hear from you in years, _years_, and then you show up, having missed your own damn son's wedding, and drag me to this fucking church. And then you tell me some bullshit story about mom?" Dean was beyond furious, shouting as he spewed all of his pent up rage towards his father, "You have no right, no fucking right, to come and screw with my mind like that."

"I know-"

"No you don't know! You don't know how heartbroken Sam was that you weren't there today. You don't know how awful it feels to grow up with a father that doesn't give two shits about you. You may be our father, but you're sure as hell not our dad. So you may as well get the hell out of town."

John looked down with a sort of pathetic, defeated expression, "I was upset when your mother died."

"Well I was too! But I had to get over it and clean up after your own goddamn mess. I still am."

"I'm sorry Dean." And he sounded just that, sorry, which made it harder for Dean to be angry at him, "But now's not the time to have a family meeting. I came here to warn you."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Assuming you're not insane, which is a big if, about what?"

"There are people after you and Sam. I don't have much time to explain. Basically, it's the apocalypse."

"Come again?" Dean asked, now equally as incredulous as pissed off.

"The apocalypse," John repeated, "They want you two. I'm not sure why yet, but it can't be good."

"Well it's the end of the world, how good could it get?"

That brought a small smile onto the oldest Winchester's face. It looked odd, like such an expression didn't belong on a face of such a tired man.

However, John kept asking questions, talking at a rapid pace; he wasn't one to screw around when there was a job that needed done.

"Where's your brother?" John inquired, staring intensely at Dean.

"He's on his honeymoon somewhere in Europe. Jessica wanted to keep the exact place a surprise for Sam. My turn, who is this 'they' you keep talking about?"

John made an irritated sigh, "The demons."

"You lost me."

"Listen," John closed the awkwardly large gap between him and his son, "Everything that has ever gone bump in the night or hidden in a closet is real. And then some. And right now, some of the biggest and the baddest have it out for you and Sam."

Dean nodded, "Right, so you _are_ insane."

A sudden female voice echoed off the white walls of the church, making Dean jump about a foot in the air.

"You really should listen to him, you know.

John's eyes got so wide that they rivaled that of some Japanese anime characters.

"Run." He whispered to Dean, who was more than happy to oblige. However, he was currently occupied being thrust into the marble walls of the chapel by an unseen force.

"What's the rush doll face? We're gonna have some fun."

From this angle, Dean could swear the woman's eyes were black.

John backed away, "This is a church, you can't be in here."

Her face made a mock pout, "Come on now, you didn't think I'd miss all the fun."

"Who are you and who sent you?"

"The names' Meg, pleased to meet your acquaintance . Very pleased actually. Ever since your little bitch killed my old boss, I've been just itching to meet you."

John's eyes narrowed at the mention of Mary, "I'm going to boil you alive in holy water you little-"

"_Excuse me_," Dean shouted over his father "I hate to break up the love fest you have going on, but will someone be so kind as to tell me _what the hell is going on_?"

Both John and the Meg chick looked over to Dean, who was still flattened against the wall uncomfortably. Meg stalked towards him, getting far too close for someone who was supposedly a demon. She placed a hand on his lower abdomen and smiled,

"He speaks. As much as I would love to skin you Winchesters alive, I've been sent here to take you to the boss. He probably want's to kill you himself." Smiling even wider, she turned around and caught John in the process of getting out, what was that, salt? _Salt, really?_

Suddenly his father was flying across the opposite side of the church, his head meeting the wall with a thud.

"You, on the other hand," she pulled out a small knife, "are free game. Say hello to mommy dearest for me."

And with that she slid the shining blade across his throat, leaving a oozing red train in it's wake.

"_DAD!_" Dean screeched, pulling wildly at the invisible restraints, "Help! Som-" But his tongue was force into complacence, shutting his up.

"Quiet darling. Wouldn't want to wake the neighbors."

If only looks could kill.

"Mmm," she smirked, side stepping the pool of blood that previously coursing through his father's veins to meet Dean, "Too bad I'm not allowed to sample the food. Still, when has that stopped me before?"

Every fiber in Dean's being shouted no as Meg inched closer. Blessedly, she stopped a few millimeters short of Dean's tensed body.

"Let's get this show on the road." The restrains lifted and Dean was a free man once again.

Well, free is relative.

Meg winked, "Try anything and I'll personally kill everyone you ever loved."

But Dean didn't get a chance to try anything, because at that moment a random blond haired man burst in through the frost doors with a panicked expression.

"We need to leave now."

Meg scoffed, "Like I'm taking orders from you. We were just leaving, anyway. Where are the others?"

"Dead. There's something. Just- _just something_. We need to take the kind and leave pronto. I don't know what this-" But he was cut off. The look of panic turned into one of terror as he collapsed onto the chapel floor, a bright light replacing what once was the coal black of his eyes. Meg looked at the door, wondering if she could make it in time to escape. Dean couldn't see what the hell this 'something' was, but it must be fucking terrifying judging from the look Meg was giving it.

Suddenly, Meg lunged at Dean, pulling out a knife and holding it to his throat.

"One more step and he's dead."

The something was unimpressed, but paused nonetheless,

"Dean shut your eyes."

Now in normal circumstances, there would be no way Dean would listen to a request from a strange homicidal being. But these were, indeed, not normal circumstances. So Dean ignored the fact that there was a knife positioned at his throat, and the fact that the something's voice sounded oddly familiar, and shut his eyes as tight as he possibly could. Meg screamed and let go of Dean. He heard a thud, probably her body hitting the floor.

Dean waited a few moments, his eyes still shut, trying to think of something to do.

This thing was obviously stronger, what with weird light attack powers. Could he possibly out run it? If he could just get to the Impala, he could drive away. To the police, or anywhere that wasn't here.

"You can open your eyes Dean."

"Like hell."

Why was that voice so familiar?

"I just saved you. Why would I want to harm you?"

The something had a valid point. And it obviously wasn't your average murderer.

Cautiously, Dean opened his eyes and, wait, what the hell? Was that the guy from the bus?

It was. And he was wearing the exact same clothes, trench coat and all. He, or whatever the hell this thing was, was staring blatantly at him.

"Hello," it stated, much like how it did on the bus.

A few moments passed as Dean began to fully understand the events that just happened.

"Dean?" The man/thing asked.

Dean sighed,

"So I'm guessing you're not Russian."


	3. Chapter 3

*Authors note- I know I took a horrific amount of time with this chapter. I'm going to try to post the next one sooner. Nevertheless, thanks for reading and I hope you're enjoying the story!*

Sam Winchester knew a number of things for sure

1. DC was so better than Marvel

2. Sandwiches just taste better when cut into triangles

3. There were _way_ too many places in Europe.

"France." He guessed, having already crossed off England, Italy, and Spain from the list.

She giggled, "Nope." She was enjoying this one one-sided guessing game.

"Sweeden."

"Nu-uh."

"Russia?"

"Try again."

Sam let out an over-dramatic sigh, but was unsuccessful at keeping the beaming smile off of his face. How could he? It was pretty fair to say that this was the best moment of his adult life, second only to graduating Stanford.

The random guessing game went on through the ride to the airport and the connection flight. Every so often he would blurt out random countries and she would shake her head no. Even the flight attendants seemed to be in on it, very suspiciously avoiding destination names. Soon they had to transition flights, and Sam was all but out of countries.

A few hours into the next flight and Sam was absolutely _convinced _that they were going to Switzerland. However, when he turned in his seat to announce his finding to Jessica, she was sound asleep. She was smiling, her fingers resting on the wedding band that adorned her left hand, which stirred up a weird combination of emotions, some of the more popular ones being love, excitement and fear.

Love because he really did love Jessica, probably more than he's loved anything, aside from his brother of course. She was really the best of him, everything he wished he was.

Excitement because wow something good was finally happening to him, Sam Winchester.

Fear because _holy crap _something good was _actually_ happening to him, _Sam Winchester_. He was near petrified about the thought of screwing it up. But it was too late to back out, and now, looking at Jessica sleeping peacefully, he was sure he made the right decision. As Dean has so gracefully put it, "You have to do something good for yourself Sammy, or you'll go all here's Johnny and murder everyone."

An eternity passed, and possibly a century or two, but finally they landed in…

Berlin, Germany! How did he not think of that? Honestly, he went to four years of law school and he didn't even know basic European geography.

Almost regrettably, Sam woke her up with a kiss on the cheek.

"Germany?" he questioned, amused. She responded with a sleepy smile, something Sam could put down as one of the best things to wake up next to.

Sam feel asleep that night extremely exhausted from… certain activities (oh, come on. It was his honeymoon!), and began to dream.

At first the dream was normal. He dreamed of Jessica and of mortgages and kids.

Then it took a turn down Weird Avenue.

And not like dancing bears kind of weird, but strange kind of weird. It was the kind of weird that might insinuate that he had one or two screws loose.

It began with Sam lying in his hotel bed, covered in blood, blood that did not belong to him at that. Now this was somewhat disconcerting, especially when he turned his gaze to the side of the bed left of him; it was occupied by corpse of his newlywed wife. Panicked, Sam looked back to the blood on his hands only to find they were clean of any scarlet liquid. A confused scan of the German hotel room revealed that Jessica was gone entirely.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered to himself, climbing out of bed, "Jess?"

A voice came from behind him, "Hello Sam."

A man stood in his hotel room, smiling comfortingly at him. The stranger looked like he was around his mid-thirties and had a strange skin rash across his face.

"Where's Jessica?" Sam demanded, taking a threatening step towards the man.

"She was never here." The intruder clarified, clearly not fazed by A. The fact that Sam was currently in his boxers and B. he was two seconds from steam rolling this guy. Slowly, the pieces fit together in Sam's mind.

"I'm dreaming." Sam reported, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air.

"Very nice. It took this guy," He indicated to himself, "Ten minutes to sort it out."

Sam exhaled, "So what are you, a physical representation of mu unconscious mind or something?"

"My name is Lucifer."

"Wait, Lucifer as in _Satan_ Lucifer?"

"You would know me as that, yes."

Now Sam wasn't an extremely religious guy, but he was pretty sure the Devil was bad news.

"Okay. That's new. Could you do me a solid and stay out of my dreams?"

"Why so rushed? I still have to talk to you."

"_You_ don't have to do anything. _You're_ not real."

Lucifer's smile widened, "Oh Sammy, I'm very real."

"Yeah and I'm Natalie Portman." He scoffed, unimpressed.

"Will killing Jessica again convince you?"

"You can do whatever you want; it doesn't matter because this is a dream." Sam pointed out, though the threat made him tense up.

Lucifer shrugged, "I can murder her in reality if you want; I just thought that might get us off on the wrong foot. Listen Sam, I want to be friends. It will make this whole process' a lot easier."

"What process?"

"I should probably explain. Let me start by saying I'm not as bad as people make me out to be."

"You're _Satan_."

"I feel you might be a bit bias."

Sam scoffed, "Yeah, _because you're Satan_."

Lucifer sighed, "Honestly, I've just got a bad rep. Do you want to know why I was cast down in the first place?" He stopped to look at Sam, waiting for an answer. Sam feel silent, and he took that as an answer.

"When God created us, angles, everything was perfect. Everything was _paradise_. My brothers and sisters loved my father, but no one loved him more than me. And then he created humans. These flawed creatures, made violent and brutish by nature. He expected us to love them, he expected us to love them more than him. I refused, and he cast me out. You see Sam? I did nothing wrong. My only crime was love."

Sam contemplated that for a moment, "Okay, so did you come into my dream for any other reason than to rant about your daddy issues?"

"Right, the apocalypse."

The blank stare Sam gave Lucifer was that of a blind man trying to read lips.

"That was pretty vague, let me explain. Some poor hunter broke the sixty-six seals, you know, from Revelations, and popped the cap on my cage, the one I've been imprisoned in for quite a while, which means it's the apocalypse. You with me so far?"

Sam nodded, though he was still incredibly lost.

"This also means I have to fight my brother Michal, I'm sure you've heard of him, in this epic battle of death. But that part doesn't concern you. You see angels can't just walk around among human without burning their eyes out of their skull; we need vessels, people that have the ability to hold us."

A realization dawned on Sam for a second time that night.

"Oh no. Oh _hell_ no," he started defiantly, backing away as many paces as the hotel room would let him, "There is no way I'm going to let you _possess _me!"

Lucifer pouted, "But you don't even know what I was going to say."

"You were going to ask to be inside of me and- ohGodnotlikethat. No just no. My answer is no. Now get out of my dream."

Lucifer sighed his pretentious little sigh again, "I was afraid you would look at it like that. I'll give you some time to think about it." He turned and began to stroll towards the door, but stopped a few inches short of it. He spoke again, and this time his tone was serious, "Sam, I really want to play nice, but you should know that I will do anything and everything it takes for you to say yes."

Sam awoke with a start, jostling Jessica, who was asleep in his arms.

"Sam?" she mumbled groggily, sitting up on her elbows, "You okay?"

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine." He said hesitantly, wiping his forehead that was cloaked in sweat, "I just had a weird dream. A really, _really _weird dream."

And that's just what it was a dream. I mean the Devil coming to him in a dream, that was pretty ridiculous. But be that as it may, the last words Lucifer spoke to him kept repeating itself in his brain, echoing off the walls in his mind.

'_I will do anything and everything it takes for you to say yes.'_


	4. Chapter 4

*author's note- Sorry this chapter is a bit short. Nonetheless, I hope you all enjoy it!*

"Dean Winchester is saved,"

Zachariah smiled, satisfied, "Good. And the other boy?"

Castiel faltered, "When I came to collect Dean at the chapel, there were already demons surrounding the perimeter. If they got to Dean that quickly, it is likely that Lucifer has already contacted Sam in some way."

The other angel's smile faded, but did not diminish completely, "Predictable yet upsetting. I take it there were no casualties?" Zachariah examined Castiel's white button-down that was sprinkled with demon blood, "Well, no ally casualties."

"Dean's father, John Winchester, is dead. Meg had already murdered him by the time I arrived."

Zachariah shrugged, "Ah well he doesn't really matter. Not to us anyway."

Something in that sentence rubbed Castiel the wrong way; however he stayed silent, remembering that a voiced thought was what caused Lucifer to be cast down.

"What have you told him?" Zachariah questioned.

"Nothing so far. I transported him into his hotel room and returned here."

Castiel's superior nodded, "Good. Tell him what is necessary, but leave out the part about vessels. Gain his trust first, I'll do the rest."

Warily, Castiel nodded and left for the second time that day to earth.

"No, _**fuck**_ no. Get out right now. Take a U turn straight up your ass and never contact me again."

Castiel expected such from the mortal. It took Dean a good 10 minutes to get over the shock stage. Now he was turning very aggressive very fast.

"_I said fucking leave!_" he shouted, advancing towards Castiel quickly. Castiel remained stationary, despite Dean's promises, putting up a hand in warning,

"If you don't stop moving you are going to run into me, which would be the equivalent of running into a steel wall."

Dean's face was near murderous, though he did stop a few feet short of the angel.

"I don't care. I just want you gone. As in now."

Castiel tilted his head and watched the human with interest, observing his actions and cataloging them for future reference.

"As in get the hell out!" He shouted again and pointed towards the door.

Castiel sighed, "I can't do that Dean."

"And why is that?"

"Because as soon as I leave the demons will return and drag you to the pits of hell." The angel replied in a monotone, as is what he was saying was as normal as day and night, which, to be fair, it was for him.

Dean looked like he was caught between laughing and assaulting Castiel. He seemed to have decided against the latter, and smiled. "Man I've had to deal with a lot of crazy this last week, but _you_ take the entire damn cake shop. What even are you?"

Castiel straightened his already aligned posture and puffed out his chest a bit with pride, "My name is Castiel. I'm an angel of the lord."

The human stared at the angel for a bit, if only to tell if he was actually serious, and then burst into a fit of laughter. After a minute or so of Castiel watching the mortal spasm in laughter, he began to grow both impatient and concerned.

"See," Dean wheezed, "Crazy. You're all crazy."

"If this were all fiction, would that not make you the insane one for seeing it all?"

Dean recovered from his brief tantrum and flopped on the hotel bed, "Fair point. But if you're gonna stay here you better get to explaining."

And so he did. Well most of it; he left out the vessels bit, as instructed.

"So wait, the story my dad told me about my mom dying because she killed that demon, that's true?" he asked, turning his head to look at Castiel. The angel knew immediately that Mary was Dean's weak sport; there was certain fragility that hid itself from the naked eye when he spoke about her. Castiel had expected questions that were hard to answer, but this one by far was the most difficult.

"Yes. I'm sorry."

The human merely nodded and returned his gaze to the ceiling, "Where's Sam?"

"Your brother is being… monitored. We are watching him."

Dean sat up, a quizzical look on his face, "We? You mean there are more of you?"

"Yes."

"And you all were _just standing_ there when my mother died?"

Castiel sighed, "She was doing the lords work."

"So she had to die?" Dean asked, sitting up again in the hotel bed as he fired off angry questions, "What happened to mercy or whatever bullshit it is you preach to people?"

This was not how Castiel wanted their first meeting to go. Yes, it was going to be very hard to earn Dean's trust now. The angel couldn't help but feel a small amount of sympathy for this human; It must have been hard to both watch his father be murdered and hear of his mother's death, of which was not the most graceful way to go.

"If it helps any, your mother's soul now rests in heaven." Castiel offered, feeling a strange urge to comfort the human.

Dean scoffed, "With you dicks? Sounds like a party," he rose from the bed, "I'm going to call my boss and tell him I won't be in for, god, I don't know, forever. What was your name again?"

"Castiel." The angel reported, mentally recording Dean's actions as he walked to get his phone out of his discarded jacket.

"I'm gonna call you Cas. Sounds less pretentious."

_Cas_.

He could get used to that.


End file.
